


the right partner

by sleepinnude



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-10 02:24:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3273275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepinnude/pseuds/sleepinnude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy and Angie finally share that schnapps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the right partner

They had finally gotten around to that schnapps.

Lounging back against Angie’s daybed, Peggy had already slipped her shoes off and undone her hair. Angie had done the same, sprawled back against the opposite corner of the bed. Her toes were curled into the scrubby fabric of the throw carpet as she waved her hand to help tell her story. It was about some older man who had brought his teeny dog into the automat — Angie hadn’t had the heart to tell him that it wasn’t allowed.

"Isn’t that quite…unsanitary?" Peggy questioned with an amused laugh. The schnapps was warm and settled into her stomach, climbing through her chest and arcing out to her fingers.

Angie let out a burst of bright laughter, shoulders shrugging up. “Glory, probably! But you shoulda seen the way he was with that thing, Pegs. Felt like I woulda been telling him that he couldn’t have his kid in with him. It was kinda sweet, anyway.” Tousling a hand through her hair, she reached over to the side table. “You want another taste?” she asked, lifting the cut-glass bottle. 

"Really, I shouldn’t." Peggy said, holding a hand up. The next day was Sunday, but what she had told Jarvis was true — the job had after-hours requirements. She could never know what might come through when. "Thank you, though, Angie."

"You’re probably right," Angie agreed, rising. She gathered their glasses and the bottle up, moving for her sink. "Here, how about some tea? Clear the system before you hit the hay?"

Peggy nodded and watched as her friend moved around the small kitchen, setting the kettle on. Her friend. Angie was her friend. Perhaps the first one she had ever really had. She wasn’t sure that Howard and Jarvis counted. Steve… Steve certainly hadn’t been a friend. Hadn’t been just a friend. She sighed quietly and suddenly Angie was just next to her, looking at her with those big eyes.

"Hey, now, English, you’re not one of those weepy drunks, are ya?" Her pretty pink lips were titled up but the smile was hesitant.

"No. No, of course not." Peggy offered her a smile back, laying a hand to Angie’s. "I was just thinking. Work. Something I need to remember."

Angie nodded but didn’t look convinced at all. “Sure thing.” There was a long moment before Angie sprung up. “Oh, I love this tune!” she cried out, moving to the radio and turning the volume up. Trumpets blared and it wasn’t long before Tex Beneke was crooning out and asking for five minutes more. She did a little kick-step over her rug, dancing in a small circle. “You dance, Pegs?”

"I’m afraid not," Peggy answered, desperately trying not to think of Steve again.

Angie laughed and then grabbed at Peggy’s wrist. “Well, ain’t that too bad!” Before she knew it, Peggy was being swung into an upbeat dance. Just like the start of the night at every bar and dance-hall with the boys… But she had a partner, now. Tiny, energetic Angie who had burrowed her way into Peggy’s life with sunshine and affection. Peggy watched as Angie’s frazzled curls bounced and she couldn’t help but smile.

"You look ridiculous, you know," she pointed out fondly.

Angie gave an undignified, indignant noise. “Only ‘cause I’m trying to teach you!” They jittered around the small living area for the rest of the song, stocking feet slipping over the hardwood floor and catching when they tracked onto the rug. Peggy couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed so hard. Couldn’t remember the last time she had held someone’s hand as long as she had been holding Angie’s now. 

The song belled, found its climax and then ended, leaving the two of them leaning over each other and laughing. “Gosh, dolly, you deserve to be out on the floor every night!” Angie gave Peggy a shove. The kettle whistled and Angie went to pour their tea. Her shoulders ebbed, breathing heavily from the dancing and the laughing. Peggy was winded a bit too, could feel her face flushed. She wondered if Angie wore the same tint of pink on her face. Wondered if she, like Peggy, couldn’t be sure that it was all from exertion.

A Perry Como hit slipped into the air between them and the ghost of something reminded Peggy — we’ll have the band play something slow. Angie turned and found Peggy still standing. There was an enchanting patch of blush over Angie’s nose and cheeks. She chewed on her bottom lip a moment before stepping closer. Her feet made almost no noise against the floor. “Hey. You any better at slow songs?”

Peggy blinked, debating her response before meeting Angie halfway. “I suppose you’ll have to tell me.”

Dancing with another girl was a bit strange, but only in that it was something she hadn’t done before. They were mirrors of each other, hands on opposite shoulders and waists. American and daring, Angie let hers slide lower, on the swell of Peggy’s hip. Their toes bumped — Peggy knew because she kept her eyes lowered, watching their steps.

And then Angie gave a quiet, airy noise and Peggy tilted her head up. Their noses just brushed. Something moved through Peggy’s chest and she felt like she was back in her old bathroom neutralizing one of Howard Stark’s rogue babies. She thought of Colleen, her smile and pretty blond hair and the shot in her head. She thought of Steve and the set of his jaw and the way his voice shook over the radio. She thought of Jarvis insisting that she wasn’t alone and she thought of Angie.

Angie’s smile and laugh and the way she lit up whenever she entered the automat. She thought of newsprint ads with red circles and that pink pout quiet hesitation asking, “Maybe it’s me?” Angie.

Without giving herself a chance to second-think it or regret it, Peggy tipped her head down and brushed her lips against Angie’s. Peggy’s deep red against Angie’s perfect pink. Gasps exchanged and soft hands on softer skin. The rustle of Perry Como finishing his lamenting song. They pulled apart slow,ly Peggy’s eyes open and Angie’s closed for another moment. “I think you’re a pretty swell dancer, Pegs.”

Peggy giggled. Actually giggled and put a hand to her forehead. “Yes. Well. I think I’ll chalk that up to my partner.”

Angie looked up at her through her lashes, smiling lightly. “Sit. I’ll get your tea.” Peggy did as she was told. When Angie joined her again, tea cups in laps, their legs overlapped, toes playing along stockings and skin. Peggy saw that her pink lip-color was undone a bit, smudged and imperfect. It made her smile. She rather liked the look on Angie. Could get used to it.


End file.
